


Icy Caves

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Ghosts, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Nightmares, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Gabriel, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-27 17:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: On a Hunt, Sam looses control on the memories he had been keeping in, and the Angels have to pick up the pieces. But the memories are bad, and will Sam be able to keep it a secret from Dean?





	1. Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, new short-story. Wrote this while in hospital, so sorry for mistakes!

The six of them stood, ready to face the Hunt. The issue was, Sam didn’t think he could do it. He looked to the snowy caves, to the ice on the floor and the dark weather and he felt his heart sink further. This wasn’t good news. He hadn’t been triggered in so long, able to avoid caves in the cold, but here he was. Standing with the others, all of them wrapped up tightly, well, the three humans, Sam felt fear trickle in.

It was a secret, one buried so deep down, he wasn’t entirely sure he could deal with it resurfacing. Dean was talking, but Sam was too busy being terrified that Dean would figure it out, that Mary might figure it out, and then there would be issues. Suddenly, the many layers that he was wearing wasn’t enough to shelter him from the brisk wind. It cut through the coat with ease, reaching right down to his bones and freezing him. Goosebumps raised, hairs sticking up on the back of his neck, and Sam could count on his hands the number of times he had been this afraid.

‘Samsquatch, you good?’ The Archangel, depowered, questioned. Sam realised that Dean, Mary and Jack had gone off towards one of the cave entrances, in search of the bones of the ghost. Sam, that meant, was responsible for the two Angels left, both of whom were looking at him like he was mad. Sam smiled slightly at that thought, he was mad. Very mad, if he thought about it hard enough.

‘Let’s get this over with.’ Sam opted for those words, shifted the bag over his shoulder, and trekked into the woods. It was pine trees, luckily not the same as those that had been by the cave when the memory occurred, but it was bad enough. The snow was thick, reached the tops of his boots, and he wished he was back in the Impala. It had never failed to make him feel safe, even if they were being chased or like the instance when the Darkness came at the car.

The two Angels were following, Gabriel wrapped slightly tighter than Castiel, due to his lack of Grace. Castiel followed, not speaking as they made their way to the entrance to the cave. It was quite a small cave, small enough that Sam would have to duck to enter it. The ghost had been seen haunting the road, luring people to their deaths on the icy mountain. News reports claimed that a woman had gone insane, holed herself up in the mountain and starved herself because her lover had an affair. Now, any man or woman that passed could pray victim to her.

‘Cold?’ Castiel asked, glancing to Sam’s shaking hands, and he was glad he could use that as an excuse. It would do no good to tell the Angels that he was petrified of the cave that stood in front, he could barely stand them in the heat, let alone when it was freezing. He gave a brief nod, not trusting his voice to remain steady, and stepped onto the stone. All he had to do was get in, find the bones, then salt and burn them. It was simple, and nothing could really go wrong.

Except they were Winchesters, and everything always went wrong. Sam made his was into the tunnel, Castiel holding the flashlight as they moved. It was rocky underfoot, snow that had blown in during the last storm had frozen, and ice crystals layered the ceiling. Sam could see his breath, his breath that was far to fast, and knew he needed to hurry up and get this job done. Afterwards, he would have a nice hot bath and forget everything that was associated with cold caves.

It didn’t help when he stumbled, placing a hand on the cold rock in front of him as he scrambled blindly in the dark. His hand connected with the stone, blood pricking under the harsh contact, and Sam felt a small part of his mental barrier give way as the blood spilt.

_‘Just hold on, it’ll feel better soon.’_

He shuddered, yanked his hand back and cradled it carefully, before stepping on. If the Angels were concerned, they didn’t voice it, and they could continue onwards. The cave got narrower, but that was alright, because he spotted what he needed to see. Bones. They were in a heap on the floor, curled up around a particularly large rock, the skeleton clear to see. Unfortunately, the ghost took that time to appear. With Castiel holding it off, the screeches echoing in the narrow cave, the Hunter and Archangel ran to the bones. Gabriel poured salt while Sam poured lighter fluid, before taking the matches from his pocket. His hands, shaking too badly to even try and light the match, handed the item across to the Trickster.

Gabriel didn’t say anything, although his face showed concern, and Sam glanced away. He didn’t want to be here, but it was fine, because they had found the bones. As the match dropped, the ghost let out an inhumane scream, one that rattled the cave walls. Castiel took a step back, and Sam watched in horror as the roof shuddered, before giving in to the force.

The sound was horrendous, a rumbling as the snow fell and packed the gap, closing them off. Castiel and Gabriel moved forwards once it had stopped, looking worried by the tightly packed snow. They started talking, words about how attempting to remove it could result in the rest of the roof collapsing. They also, however, had the issue of freezing. Castiel and Gabriel wouldn’t, so they turned slowly, looking at Sam.

Sam hadn’t moved, staring at the wall of snow that trapped him in his worst nightmare. He felt his heartrate pick-up, felt his body start to hyperventilate, knew he needed to get himself in control. He sunk down to his knees, clutched at his head, ignoring the blood in his palm. He felt sick, sick enough that he was going to actually lose his stomach if he kept this up.

‘Sam, what’s wrong?’ That was Castiel, Sam tried to remember himself. Castiel, an Angel, his brother. Someone that wouldn’t hurt him.

_‘I won’t hurt you, Sam.’_

He retched, felt his stomach threaten to spill, tried to push down the thoughts that he had successfully repressed for a long time. Gabriel was crouching down, golden eyes staring at him with concern. Castiel was also looking down, but Sam didn’t like this, he didn’t want to be here. He tried to do what he had done with Lucifer, withdraw himself to a different place where he could hide away in his subconscious, but that wasn’t possible. Castiel reached out to touch him, probably for comfort, or maybe to see if there was anything actually wrong with Sam, but the Hunter couldn’t take it.

‘No, no please don’t.’ He muttered, trying to reverse away from the Angel. His head span, fingers hit ice, and it seemed like his body was freezing. It felt like he was back in the Cave, a naïve ten-year-old who would do anything…

‘Sammich, I need you to listen to me. You’re going to freeze, and we need to get you warm.’

_‘It’s cold, Sammy. This will help.’_

Sam blanched, kicking at the Archangel and crying out, trying to get as far away. He found the corner, curled up in the tightest ball he could, trying to ignore the hands ghosting across his skin. The Angels looked to each other, but Sam was staring at them like they were predators, trying to figure out a way to get out.

‘Sam, you need to get warm.’ Castiel stated, kneeling down slowly. He watched the Angel remove the trench-coat, watched it be offered out. Sam, stuck far away in the back of his own mind, lost control of the words falling out of his mouth.

‘I don’t have to take them off?’ He inquired childishly, eyes wide as he accepted the jacket. That made Castiel freeze, Gabriel stare at him like he wasn’t supposed to say such a thing. Sam wrapped it tightly around himself, still shaking as his chest heaved.

‘No Sam, why would you have to take them off?’ The Angel asked, and Sam looked into those big blue eyes. Like Dean’s, those eyes were trustworthy. His mind told him that, told him that the Angel was trustworthy, and he hesitantly uncurled. He kept his body tense, kept himself away from the two men staring at him, but he did offer words.

‘To get warm. He…’ Sam felt his heart clench, felt like he was dying, and his stomach threatened to spill.

‘Listen to me, Samshine, did someone hurt you? Is that why you didn’t want to come into the cold?’ Sam listened to the voice, found the golden eyes that burnt with anger and compassion, and Sam shuddered. It was freezing, and the little light just about illuminated the faces, but it was doing nothing to calm his fear. It was just as he remembered, the cold, the fear creeping in and taking over any thoughts he had.

‘It was so cold, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to.’ He felt tears brim, watched Gabriel move towards him slowly. His hands reached for skin, and Sam watched them with owl-like eyes, unsure if he was supposed to allow the Angel to do such a thing. Castiel was now closing in, but it wasn’t threatening, more like they were trying to comfort him.

‘Did they do something?’ Gabriel inquired, hands resting lightly on Sam’s knee. Sam looked up to the eyes, nodding slowly as he wrapped the coat tighter.

‘Sam, you know me and Castiel, we aren’t going to hurt you.’

_‘You know me, Sammy. You can trust me.’_

It was the wrong thing to say. His eyes went wide, remembering the words that were spoken, before he screamed. Screamed and thrashed, trying to get away from the hands that gripped his flailing limbs.

‘Dammit Cas, hold him down, he’s going to injure himself.’ Sam cried, biting down on his lip as he tried to break the hold they had on him. He didn’t want to be here, wanted to be far away from the cold Cave.

‘Please… please let me go, I don’t want to, please.’ He begged, pleaded, and the two Angels didn’t speak. But he wasn’t seeing the Angels, wasn’t seeing his two best friends, was seeing the man that had promised never to hurt him.

_‘Be quiet, Sam.’_

‘I can’t, please.’ He whined.

_‘Just stay still, it will be over quicker.’ The man said, manoeuvring his smaller body. Sam screamed as the clothes were torn, before a hand clamped over his mouth._

‘No, no please, anything but that.’

_‘Shut up, Sam. Stop being such a girl.’_

‘Dad, please.’ He whimpered, thrashing beneath the hands that held him. He heard someone gasp, and somewhere in the back of his head he realised that didn’t happen in the memory, and maybe he needed to listen. A body closed over his, slighter than his frame, and the sweet smell of honey came into his mind. He froze, breathed in deeply, then realised that it wasn’t Dad. It wasn’t John, the guy that had only done that once. Gabriel, he realised, stopping his movement and clinging to the almighty being.

‘That’s it, breathe, Samshine.’ He found himself curled between two Angels, both keeping a hand on him like he was being grounded. It helped, the ability to hold onto them.

‘It was so cold…’ He muttered, feeling stupidly ashamed of the tears that were running down his cheeks.

‘How… how far did he go, Samalam? Only speak if you want to.’ Hands, Castiel’s, reached for his hair. It was enough to soothe the Hunter, who focused on the fact that he was here, with them, not stuck in the icy cave.

‘Said… said we needed to be warm… it hurt…’ They understood, and he didn’t need to say anymore for them to get what he was implying. Gabriel sighed, pulled Sam into his lap and held him there.

‘Sleep, Sam. We’ll sort the Cave out.’

**

Sam didn’t talk about it. He greeted his brother and Mother like nothing had happened, gave Jack a bright smile, but he knew the Nephilim could tell something had happened. Luckily, it didn’t come up in conversation, and Sam was able to avoid the sinking feeling in his gut as they drove back to the Bunker in Cas’s ride, while Dean and Mom took the Impala.

‘I’m guessing Dean doesn’t know.’ Gabriel stated slowly, from the back of the car. Sam tensed, felt his body try and scream, but he shoved everything down.

‘No. He sent Dean away on another Hunt.’ Like he had planned the entire thing, Sam thought miserably, looking out of the window. It would hurt to pretend, he thought sadly, but he could do it. Pretend that this had never happened, and that he hadn’t lost something so precious in that cave.


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam relives his worst memory, and then worse things happen.  
> Warning! Graphic details of rape! Please don't read if this will affect you.

_It was freezing. The Case was ridiculous, searching for a stupid trail of a creature, possibly a werewolf, that was killing things. Sam rose his head to look at his father, who had been staring at him on and off for the last couple of days. Sam didn’t know why Dean had been sent away, why his brother was allowed to go off on his own and do something. Dad had tried to tell him that Dean, as a fourteen-year-old boy, needed time to understand the “changes” going on in his body. Personally, Sam wasn’t entirely sure why Dad had picked this time. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t flirt with girls constantly._

_The snow was pretty thick, considering Sam was small. It was something his brother always teased him about, how short and gangly he was, but Dad assured him he would grow. That would be good, Sam thought, because then he would put Dean flat on his back and laugh at him. The ten-year-old walked through the knee-high snow, John finding it considerably easier, and readjusted the shotgun. He wasn’t usually allowed on Hunts, that was Dean’s job, but John had come home last week after a Demon Hunt and had decided it was time to push Sam’s limits._

_He missed his brother, he thought miserably, kicking snow out of the way. His Dad shot him a glare, one that turned up to the sky as the snow fell heavier, and he sighed. Sam didn’t want to point out that he was freezing, or that he was pretty sure that his shotgun was frozen as well. Dad wouldn’t want to hear it, so Sam didn’t bother. When they were on Hunts, he wasn’t Dad, he was Sir. Sam still struggled to understand how his brother could follow so loyally, he struggled to drop everything and do what their father asked, but he was trying. So, when John told them they should stop in one of the Caves, he agreed. He didn’t point out that they should turn around and head for the Impala, didn’t point out that a Cave would be just as cold and ran the risk of being snowed in._

_The one John chose was a small cave, rocks surrounding the outside. Coniferous trees lined the barren landscape, shrubs hidden by the snow, and Sam would have loved to have noted what they were. Odd facts were a great way to keep his mind off of the monsters his Dad and brother hunted, and Dean always got a wistful smile when Sam started talking about things he had learnt. It made him happy to please his brother, so he was disappointed in not being able to identify the plants around them._

_John had put the shotgun he was holding down, and the Duffel bag. Sam followed suit, placing his shotgun down and trying not to shiver, turning to find John staring right at him. Instinct caused him to look down, check that he hadn't left the weapon cocked, so he was confused with the look his Dad was giving him. It was a mix of things he didn’t recognise, and when he spoke, his voice was lower than usual. Like it was when he was about to get really angry, but this sounded… different?_

_‘Do you trust me, Sam?’ His Dad asked, and Sam quickly reassured him that he did. He gazed up from under his lashes, trying to understand if he should be apologising for something, or if his Dad was trying to get him to talk._

_‘Then you need to listen to what I’m about to say, and follow the orders.’ For a second, Sam beamed. That was great news, his Dad was finally going to trust him like he trusted Dean! Dean got all the cool jobs, doing stuff Sam was jealous of, and now Dad was going to let him take part as well! He couldn’t wait to get back to Dean, to tell him of the Hunt and how he helped, knowing how proud Dean would be. That funny smile that only he could cause would light up on his big brother’s face._

_‘Yes Sir.’ He chirped happily, able to forget the cold as he looked to his father. Later, Sam would think of it as child-like innocence, the look he gave, and would blame himself. That enthusiasm only twisted the look on John’s face further._

_‘I won’t hurt you, Sam.’ His father stated, stepping forwards. Sam blinked, but didn’t move, allowing the buttons of his coat to be undone. He hadn't been injured, not yet, but he figured that Dad needed something. Blood? For a ritual, maybe? He trusted his Dad implicitly, so why would he doubt him? He helped undo his own coat, and watched his Dad place it on the floor. That, perhaps, seemed a little wrong._

_‘It’s cold, Sammy, this will help.’ His father explained, like it made sense as Sam’s shirt joined the pile, and the undershirt and thermals he had been wearing. Now, Sam realised, something was very wrong. Naturally, his brother had given him some talks. Like the one about older men who looked at young boys with lust. But that couldn’t be what was happening here, could it?_

_‘You know me Sammy, you can trust me.’ Dad said when his hands reached Sam’s belt, and the boy looked up with a mixture of fear and trepidation as the belt was undone. Hands unbuttoned the trousers that were yanked away, and Sam began to fight._

_‘Please… please let me go, I don’t want to, please.’ He begged, pleaded, staring up at the man who was now pushing him down to the ground, on top of the coat that he had been wearing. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen, he just knew it wasn’t good._

_‘Be quiet, Sam.’ His father snapped, shoving him over onto his stomach and pushing his head onto the cold floor._

_‘I can’t, please.’ He whined, trying to squirm out from under the harsh hands that held him down on the cold floor. He wasn’t entirely sure why this was happening, he was sure that he had done everything his Dad asked._

_‘Just stay still, it will be over quicker.’ The man said, manoeuvring his smaller body. Sam screamed as the boxers were torn, before a hand clamped over his mouth._

_‘No, no please, anything but that.’ Now he knew what was happening, especially when he heard John undoing his belt._

_‘Shut up, Sam. Stop being such a girl.’ That struck a nerve, Sam stopping his fighting and trying to work out if that was the issue._

_‘Dad, please.’ He tried, turning his head and catching a glimpse of something he really didn’t want to. Hands gripped his ass, and God Dean would kill him for even thinking that word, and Sam squealed as cold hit the sensitive skin exposed. Sam bit back a shout as his head as slammed further down, body weight pressing onto him, something hot and hard pressed against him._

_It hurt. It burned, and Sam couldn’t relax, even though his Dad was telling him to. Couldn’t relax as he pulled back slightly, more cold being pushed in between them, and Sam realised it must be snow. This time, when John pushed forwards, his hips hit the floor hard. Sam cried, tears dribbling down his cheeks as he felt his father’s hips pressed to him, felt the pain in his body as he started thrusting._

_‘Just hold on, it’ll feel better soon.’ John grunted, but Sam couldn’t quite believe that, not when he felt something warm trickling between his legs, and realised it must be blood. Of course, Sam had enough knowledge to know some things. As the thrusting and panting increased, Sam thought to the logical facts he had._

_It was cold, and this was a way of warming up core body temperature, needed to regulate the brain’s control over the body. Secondly, by doing this, it made it more likely that they would survive the blizzard. But, then again, he knew from Dean’s lewd descriptions that what his father was currently doing was wrong. He’d been told in school that a penis only filled with blood if it was attracted to the person it was with, especially once the hormones from puberty had gone past. And, on top of all that, John hated gay people. So why was he doing this?_

_‘Such a good bitch, Sammy, so pretty.’ John grunted, the obscene sound of skin slapping as he forced him further down onto the floor. Sam thought about the words, thought about what he knew, and realised that he was being feminized._

_‘Wet for me, Huh?’ A finger trailed in the warmth between his thighs, before a hand lifted his hips up and went around to the front. Sam, praying on the fact that his Dad was getting off on thinking Sam was a girl, was terrified when a hand clamped over his balls. Logically, he knew what they were for, but he was too young to have ever had to deal with that. Dean kept telling him it would come, that one day he would understand why Dean was so obsessed, but Sam honestly didn’t think there was anything worse._

_‘C’mon, Sammy, be a good little bitch.’ His father slurred, hips moving more erratically, and Sam felt something being hit inside that made him feel weird. Fuzzy, almost, a tingling that had some response from the so-far useless skin between his legs. John shouted in triumph when Sam hardened, although the boy himself was horrified, disgust and self-loathing creeping through as John growled low._

_‘Fuck! Yes, take it Sam!’ The last couple of thrusts hurt, warmth spreading through his lower half as he felt John finish, disgust as he was rolled over onto his back. He looked away as his Dad stroked himself a couple of times, the last drops of… stuff… dripping onto Sam’s stomach._

_‘Get up. This was your fault, Sammy, for acting like a little bitch.’ John snapped, and Sam shuffled back, staring at the mess of blood and seed on his coat, and his hardened prick standing up between his thighs. He did as told, numbly standing up and trying to dress, ignoring the throbbing pain behind him._

**

Sam woke up gasping, realised that it was because someone was knocking at his door. He shouted out a “come in”, grabbing the edge of the bed to ground himself. Somehow, that had felt too real. It was Gabriel that poked his head around the door, looking at him with concern.

‘You alright, kiddo?’ He asked, and Sam gave a weak nod.

‘Fine. What’s wrong?’ Because, without a doubt, the look on Gabriel’s face was guilt. Sure enough, the Angel gave a sigh, before looking right at him.

‘Castiel told Dean.’ Sam froze, staring at the Trickster and praying he misheard those words. Praying, to anyone that would listen, that Gabriel hadn't just said that. Gabriel looked sorry, golden eyes staring at him before continuing,

‘Dean wants to see you in the main room.’


	3. M'sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erm, I cried writing this. Just saying

This was awkward. Sam sat in the main room, facing Dean and his Mom, and Jack sitting by the Angels. They were just sitting there staring at him, Dean waiting for Sam to speak, Sam not going to unless Dean did.

‘This is awkward.’ Jack stated, and the Angels nodded slowly. Dean sighed, looking straight at Sam, and actually began to speak.

‘What happened in the Caves?’ Sam thought back to the Ghost, decided he could explain that without it being too bad. Later, once Sam had some time with Castiel, he was going to murder the Angel for blurting out… well, he didn’t even know what Castiel had said.

‘We went Hunting the ghost, found the bones, the roof collapsed.’ Sam freaked out, admitted to something that he swore he would never bring up, and looked like an utter melon in front of the Angels. The insult of Melon made him smile slightly, although he hid it in case his brother decided it was weird to smile about such a thing. Dean just stared at him for a while, and the silence yet again became uncomfortable.

‘And then?’ Sam shifted in the chair, staring at his hands that were already shaking. Dammit, this was bad. He gripped hold of the jeans he was wearing, before looking back up to his brother. Well, slightly to the side, just in case his brother could see his thoughts in his eyes.

‘I freaked out, alright? It was shitty, but it won’t happen again.’ Because it hadn't happened since he was ten, knowing he had to hide it from Dean. Because Dean was the loyal soldier, and Sam wouldn’t ruin that relationship. Sure, he grumbled and moaned about their dad, trying to see if Dean would every choose him over John, but after he left for Stanford, Sam knew. Then, by the time he realised maybe he had been wrong, John was dead and Sam couldn’t tarnish his memory.

‘Cas said that Dad hurt you. What happened? Did he hit you?’ That was so much worse, Sam realised. Because now, he had a choice. He could tell the truth, that Dad had done something that haunted Sam in the darkest of his nightmares, or he could lie. And lying would be so much easier, it wasn’t like Dad hadn't hit him before. A couple of times when he got loud, a couple of times when he failed on a Hunt. Dean usually got between them, and as far as Sam knew, Dean had never been hit.

Castiel looked awkward. Gabriel was glaring at his younger brother, and Sam wished that Castiel had just told Dean the truth. Or at least the truth they suspected. Technically, Sam had been hit. Well, his face had been crushed into the floor, but that was kind of the same.

‘Uh, yeah. Yeah, he hurt me.’ Slammed him down onto a cold floor and took away everything he had. But Sam didn’t know how to say that aloud, didn’t know how to explain what had happened. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, and would Dean even believe him?

‘What happened?’ Dean asked steadily, the voice he used when Sam was having a meltdown and Dean needed to take charge. It wasn’t enough to stop his heart from racing, Sam felt sweat gather on his palms as he tried to still the nerves bubbling around.

‘Wasn’t anything bad, it’s in the past. It doesn’t really m-matter anymore.’ He cursed the stutter, knowing without a doubt that his brother had picked up on it, and Sam felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him.

‘How about the Angels’ show us the memory?’

‘No!’ Sam snapped before realising how aggressive he sounded, standing up and knocking the chair back. No, they weren’t seeing that, nobody was seeing it. Dean looked shocked by the anger, standing up slowly like Sam was a flight risk, which was probably true. The youngest Winchester looked to the nearest exit, wondering if he could just run really fast and avoid his brother entirely. Mom still hadn't moved, but Dean was approaching, and with every step, it reduced Sam’s chance of escape.

‘What happened, Sammy?’ His voice was soft, almost caring, and Sam felt tears threaten to spill. Ghost-hands skirted across his body, the images of that dream, no, memory, flashing behind his mind as he watched his brother approach. It was only three words, only three words he had to say, but Sam couldn’t. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, brain short-circuiting as Dean got closer. He didn’t want Dean that close, not after such a bad memory, didn’t want his brain to mix up Dean’s touch with John’s.

‘It was only once.’ Sam appeased, trying to take a small step away from his brother, who was still stalking forwards. He was surprised that his heart was still in his chest, it was pounding away, and Sam thought he would probably pass out if it got much higher.

‘Did he hit you, Sam?’ Sam could have dealt with that. If John had slapped him, then Sam would have been moody for a while, sulked in his room or in the motel, and eventually got over it. But he hadn't, and instead he’d spent his entire life trying to work out what he had done wrong. What he had done to deserve it.

_‘Such a girl… wet for me… good little bitch…’_

He pulled back as his brother tried to reach out, knowing it was Dean, but not able to distinguish between the two. After all, Dean was the one who called him a bitch, Dean was the one that always called him Samantha. Then, after all that crossed his mind, he remembered the humiliation of getting hard.

‘Sammy…’ His brother was looking right at him, but Sam’s vision was blurry, probably because tears were running down his cheeks, and he didn’t know how to stop them. He didn’t know if he could stop them, it was like it had been in the Cave, apart from this time it was warm and the tears weren’t freezing to his cheeks, just dripping down as he wondered how to escape.

‘Answer me. Did he hit you?’ It was Dean’s “John impression”, the one he used in Hunts when Sam wasn’t listening. However, it had a weird affect on Sam’s mind, because Sam found himself answering his brother.

‘No.’ Dean looked confused, but the Angels knew, and were sending Jack out of the room. His Mom was watching him, tears in her own eyes, and Sam realised he was disappointing everyone in the room. Of course he was, he disappointed everyone.

‘What did he do?’ It was only four letters. But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t say that word, not when looking into the bright green of Dean’s eyes. Instead, Sam looked away, waiting for the punch that would come when he finally got the words out. Even though he whispered them, he knew the entire room had heard.

‘He raped me.’ Sam muttered, Dean literally choking on air, and Sam wishing the floor would engulf him. Hell, even the Cage would have been the preferable option.

‘W-when?’ Now it was his brother that was stuttering, but Sam still wouldn’t look at Dean. He couldn’t, he didn’t want to see the disappointment in his brother’s eyes. Couldn’t handle the rejection.

‘Winter of ’93. D-dad left you to flirt with girls, took me to Hunt a werewolf.’ Sam remembered the day after, how sore he had been, how numb his mind had felt. He had watched his father kill the werewolf, helped him clear the mess without hesitation. When they had got back, Sam had avoided his brother for weeks. He knew Dean was realising that too, could hear how his brother’s breathing change when the pieces clicked into place.

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Sammy?’ Dean took a step closer, but Sam still didn’t look up. He focused on Dean’s shirt, the AC/DC shirt that Sam had bought him after finding it in a thrift shop.

‘It didn’t matter.’ Sam replied honestly, because it hadn't. Because ten-year-old Sam wanted to keep the relationship he had with his brother, and didn’t want to put strain on things. Didn’t want to make it awkward between them, or have Dean stop his teasing or name calling.

‘Didn’t matter?! Sam, he… that’s not okay! I would have…’ Dean stopped, realising the evident fault in what he was about to say, and Sam looked up. Dean looked angry, eyes wide and hurt and vulnerable, and Sam found his own anger growing.

‘Would have done what, Dean? Put a bullet in his head? He was our Dad! I wasn’t messing that up, wasn’t going to be the reason you lost another parent!’ Sam, had he been thinking logically, would not have said those words. But he did, well, shouted them in Dean’s face, and his brother looked like he’d been hit. Sam did blame himself for Mary, blamed himself for Dean’s crappy childhood, and he wasn’t going to take John away.

‘You’re my family, Sammy! You mattered more to me than him! Why didn’t you TELL me?’ Dean shouted, voice raised well above Sam’s, and the younger knew he was crying again. He hated being the emotional one, hated how his brother had so much control over his moods. It was like it was just the two of them in the room, Sam forgot all about Gabriel and Castiel and Mary, just stared at his big brother.

‘I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me! All I did was try and be like you! But Dad… he called me a girl… told me I was a good bitch. Made me… made me like it, and I didn’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t lose you, Dean.’ The first phrases had been shouted, the rest had been sobbed, and Sam curled up on himself like he was a hedgehog, curled up and sobbed hard, trying to forget all about the awful things his father had said.

The smell of engine oil and aftershave and home flooded his mind, arms wrapping around him like when he was a kid, and Sam didn’t hesitate to barrel into his brother, just wanting to hold him one last time, even if Dean couldn’t stand him anymore.

‘M’sorry, De, m’sorry I failed you.’ He muttered, repeated over and over, his brother holding him tighter, lips pressed to the top of his head. Sam worried he was ruining Dean’s shirt, but his big brother wasn’t letting him go, and Sam couldn’t find it in him to pull away.

‘S’alright, baby brother, I’ve got you.’ Dean stated quietly, and Sam hiccupped a sob, trying to stem them as Dean held him.

‘I’ve got you.’


End file.
